Did the captain of the Titanic cry?
by mayfair22
Summary: In the federal world he had now almost become a part of, it probably was another day at work to have your partner die for you but he wonders how many of those had been lusting after the wife of the man who took the bullet for them...Angsty one shot..


AN: _Okay, so I'll admit that the male lead characters on this show have way too much of chemistry but I fail to see it as slash, more like well scripted brotherly, friendly banter or something (however with underlying innuendoes)… Elizabeth and Neal on the other hand have no romantic chemistry what so ever but considering I found nothing exclusively about this pairing I thought to give it a try for the simple cause of trying something different…So, here is an itch which just had to be scratched…_

_Disclaimer: Disclaimed._

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_Because I'm easy come, easy go .Little high, little low...Any way the wind blows…_

It was drizzling. Like it always drizzled on days like these.

Not the pouring down of the heavens, which would occasionally bring out a bright yellow rain coat but a mere sliver of water, mist and dew which clamped it down to boring black umbrellas.

Boring black umbrella over a boring black dress…

Neal could not avert his eyes…She looked so heartbroken, so small…fragile. Albeit she stood strong, the pillar of strength he had always associated with her, but one touch and he knew she would break down into several minute molecules…He was not ready to see _that._How could he bring himself to watch the dissolving of an image he had so carefully created over the years?

But he painstakingly continued to stare, for a glimmer of that shine he was so used to but her eyes remained cold…dark…dead.

He didn't think he would ever see them light up again.

Jones, standing across from him caught his eye then and he quickly looked down, absent mindedly kicking a stone as the minister continued to draw the funeral prayer to an end…

_Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the fandango, thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me_.

Oh! Would he kill to see the look on Peter's face as he hummed the Queen song during a funeral service. Unintentionally, Neal hiccupped a chuckle, bringing Hughes to glance at him in disbelief.

_Too bad._He thought. Peter would have found it funny… Peter….Elizabeth.

He glanced up again, just in time to see her sniffle in a sob she had not let out till now…How? When? He didn't need to see this. He _shouldn't_ be seeing this.

_Galileo ,Galileo, Galileo Figaro. Magnifico-o-o-o-o ._He closed his eyes against the image. Her blue eyes now devoid of colour, his shining unnaturally with pain…

_Bismillah! We will not let you go .Let him go .Bismillah! We will not let you go_.

And it was over! The first sound of the shovel scrapping mud over the coffin forcing his eyes to open.

She was gone…Her back hunched, her walk slow as she moved out of the grounds.

It was only then that Neal felt his knees give way…_  
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It had been almost eight months since the shootout…Two hundred and forty days since he had last seen him…Last seen her. Six days since he had gathered courage to come here…Four hours he had spent just standing outside a familiar door he had once prided himself on barging in through anytime, unannounced.

Now? He was not sure if was welcome anymore.

The knock was faint and he almost hoped that she would not hear it…But there she was. A surprised look on her face.

"Neal!" she gasped and then cracked a smile, "Come on in."

He wanted to kill himself.

"Elizabeth." He greeted, walking in and taking his usual place on the dining table only to immediately get up as he realized that this was actually _Peter's_favouirite chair…More often than once he had been swanked off it by a hard thump on the back.

He quietly settled himself in a corner.

"It's been some time." She said softly and he stared back at her…Eyes unflinching as he took her in…Her eyes weren't the same but a hint of colour had started to return to her cheeks. It gave her an unusual aura and he found himself trembling all of a sudden.

He was such a prick! A selfish bastard to come here _now,_

"El…" He began and she stopped him with a hand.

"I forgive you." She said instead.

He blinked at her. Eyes closing and opening in slow motion. "You do?"

Elizabeth smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "only because that's what you want to hear. I don't think I ever blamed you."

"He died saving _me,_El."

"No Neal. Peter died doing his job. Doing what he loved the most." She added the last part with a voice even more watered down than before.

She looked down at his head hung low, his hands laid out on the table in a helpless gesture and reached out to take hold of one of them. "I forgive you Neal." She repeated.

He looked up at her, his (or hers or both) eyes swimming with tears…And without much thought to it, picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, "Thank you." He whispered against them, his lips forming a pattern.

Elizabeth didn't say anything , however she quietly untangled her hand from his and walked up to the window, staring out at the street.

"Do you miss him?" he asked…Self disgust flowing in him as he recognized the hint of impatience in his voice.

"Don't you?" she turned around to face him.

And he did. So terribly. Missed the one man who had become a friend, a brother, a mentor…All rolled into one.

And a rival.

It had been two years since Kate's death and as heartbroken as he had been, as convinced as he had been that he would never fall in love again, as ridiculed as he had felt at her betrayal, it had surprisingly been Elizabeth to get him out of a vortex he had successfully been falling into.

He had watched day in and day out as Elizabeth took care of him, doted over him, often with a maternal instinct he knew she was desperate to shed out. He had seen how she was around Peter, how she supported the man, a women so secure in her marriage that she had never questioned the existence of the world she was not a part of, a world which posed a danger to both her and her husband. Here was a beautiful, beautiful woman who would never leave the side of her man, never betray him, never leave him…Here was a women who was not Kate.

Neal had convinced himself that it was just a crush, a simple infatuation and Christ! he had never thought of acting on his school boy instincts.

He had never, not even in his wildest dreams wanted Peter out of the picture…

You would think one would understand the guilt he had been carrying for the past eight months…In the federal world he had now almost become a part of, it probably was another day at work to have your partner die for you but he wonders how many of those had been lusting after the wife of the man who took the bullet for them…

How could he explain to anyone that in that fleeting moment before Peter had thrown him to the side, that miniscule moment when Neal was sure was going to be his last, his thoughts had only been of Elizabeth?

Bile rose up in his throat as he relived the moment where he had been regretting his decision to remain discreet…If only he had told Elizabeth that he had fallen in love with her…

The next moment Peter was lying dead in front of him…

"Do you want some coffee?" She broke his thought.

"Sure." He grinned up at her.

* * *

There had been times when he was sure that Moz knew about it…Hell, he was sometimes even sure that Peter knew it.

"I may not like the suit much" Moz remarked one fine day, "but even I would not blame him for throwing you back into prison for looking at his wife the way you did tonight."

Neal had frozen at the doorway, "What the hell are you talking about? "

"C'mon Neal" Moz quipped, "I saw it."

Neal had not even the heart to pretend to deny it, "I would never…" he broke off with a sigh.

"I know." Moz looked up at him sympathetically, "But just be careful. There is nothing to gain here. She is very happy with Peter"

Neal smiled slightly at his friend; this was probably the first time Mozzie had actually called Peter by his name. It sort of lent finality to his statement.

"Don't I know Moz, Don't I know…" he whispered bitterly back to him.

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With Peter it was different. With Peter it was far worse.

Not a word about this _situation (?)_passed between them. Peter just gave him that look…The look which said that he was walking on broken glass around Neal…Very ,very carefully.

It was never with anger, or threat… It was not like Peter even looked at him as an equal. He simply looked at him with a mixture of pity and God help him…Amusement?

It drove Neal up the wall…If everyone fucking knew about it then why did they just not throw him back in prison? Or be man enough to confront him about it? But no…There was not a word.

Did they talk about it among themselves? Had Peter told Elizabeth about it? Did they whisper at night about how _poor_Neal had not only lost Kate but had the idiocy to fall in love with a married woman…A _happily_married woman at that? Did he finish making love to her and while wrapping his arms possessively around her laugh about the naivety that was Neal Caffery?

He started to take note of any hints to indicate that Elizabeth too was a part of his suspicion… But the woman remained unchanged, making Neal feel all the more small. Peter had not said a word to _anyone_. The man had kept his honour and Neal's secret…To the grave.

Neal shook his head , remembering that it didn't matter anymore…He was not here for that, hell, he had no idea why he was here in the first place. All he knew was that he missed her, missed Peter…And that he hadn't slept properly in months.

Guilt gnawing at him every time he closed his eyes.

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It was the sudden silence from the kitchen that alerted him that it was time Elizabeth had finished with the coffee, with an intention to help, he entered the kitchen… To find her huddled in one corner, clutching a black mug tightly in her hand.

"El?" he called out urgently, "what's wrong?"

In two quick steps he was beside her, helping her stand, her fingers not losing their grip around the handle of the mug.

It was then that he noticed; she was crying.

"Peter… Peter's mug." She said trying to find her voice, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't…" She pushed him away a little and tried to compose herself but Neil's hands remained possessively on her arms.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry" she repeated, "I don't know…I was making you coffee when I came across this…This shouldn't be happening. I..I don't know what triggered it…I just."

"Shhh" Neal's eyes shifted to the mug still clutched in her hand. An image of Peter filling him up on a case while sipping coffee from the same suddenly filling his head. He closed his eyes against the uncomfortable image, No wonder Elizabeth was upset.

"It's okay." He comforted her instead.

Except that it wasn't…He hadn't counted on what actually seeing Elizabeth shed tears could do to his resolve…Her cheeks were stained with tears and fresh ones were already making their way down.

Without thinking, without wanting to think he bent his head down and captured one tear with his mouth…

She froze as he shifted his attention and repeated the motion on her other cheek, his lips silently drinking in a salty tear before they made their way down and rested against her jaw…

Sighing, Neal shifted back a little, looking up to gauge her reaction…Elizabeth's eyes were unreadable… "Say something." He called out urgently.

She however remained quiet, unfocused and so much for the genius Neal Caffery was, he was quiet foolish at times like these. Common sense was let loose, consequences insignificant as he bent his head again, this time brushing his mouth against hers, his hands making their way up her arms, feeling the smooth skin he had only imagined to ever touch so intimately, his thumbs brushing affectionately against her jaw as he moved his hands up to cup her pear shaped face…This had to be dream…Had been for so long.

And he would have willingly died in that moment as he felt Elizabeth's lips quiver a bit, her own hands traveling up and coming to rest on his chest…The mug, _Peter's_mug crashing on the floor, breaking into tiny, cutting pieces.

They both ignored it.

She gasped as he slightly increased the pressure on her mouth, her own parting just an inch as Neal lost track of every sense of reality and pressed closer to her…

It was therefore a surprise when she abruptly pushed him away…The sting of her slap on his cheek biting against his flesh.

Her breath was labored as she stared at him with a look he quiet didn't read…

"El…" Neal opened his mouth to reason, perhaps to plead or to apologize but settled with nothing more than a strangled, "why?"

She shook her head, hastily backing away two steps, "Don't" she whispered so low that he had to strain to hear her.

"What?"

"Get out." This time her voice held no hesitation.

"Go Neal." She repeated. "Just go from here." And her back was turned to him, her hands clutching the kitchen counter so tightly that her knuckles discolored.

And then he knew it, the look was one of disgust… Like she regretted the little response she had just let loose…A _mistake._

Funny, how he was going to live on the memory of that little lapse in reason for the rest of his life…

He nodded mutely at her turned back and was out of the door without a further word.

* * *

The outside light greeted him harshly as he slumped across the Burke's door…

Why?

Why had he just ruined a one relation that he had had left?

Peter? What man betrayed his friend like this? Apparently a selfish, self conceited bastard like him did.

And Elizabeth? Congratulations Neal. Way to take advantage of a distressed woman like that.

He knew that he could never look at her again…

_Why? Why? Why?_

A mixture of soot and sob built up in his throat as he picked himself up from the sidewalk…Never had he felt as small, as self loathed as he did now.

He looked up at the city around him, New York. He had so loved this place, today it felt hollow…It held nothing but a consuming guilt, a dreadful sorrow. It was nothing but a reminder of what was, of what could have been.

Peter was gone and Elizabeth never wanted to see him again.

New York held nothing for him…

His eyes fell on the tracker at his foot. Hughes had insisted he keep it on as long as he was not going back to prison…Except there was no use now.

Anyone who actually thought that Neal, who could break open the most complex of safes, was unable to break open a simple fed tracker didn't really know Neal Caffery…

There had been but one reason that Neal had had the instrument safely around his ankle was so long…Peter's trust.

And today he had successfully broken every last remaining shred of it.

With one last look at the black door, Neal gathered himself to walk out of this world, her world…This time for good.

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_AN: So, I'm not very happy with the end…I wanted him to go but it didn't come out that well…What did you think? Do review…_


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